


you're familiar like my mirror years ago

by bubblesandburdensfics



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Shadowgast, Shadowgast Week 2020, Shadowgast week, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, beaujester, because you can take the novelist out of the novel but you can't take the novel out of the novelist, fjorclay, ft verin characterization in prt 2, i forgot how to tag ao3 fics damn, oh my god how could i forget shadowgast, spoilers up to ep 97, yeah that makes sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:55:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24034657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblesandburdensfics/pseuds/bubblesandburdensfics
Summary: Your greatest hurt's name is on one wrist and your greatest love is on the other. Caleb has a hard time telling which is which.- @sockablock had a BRILLIANT idea on tumblr and ya girl had to expand -
Relationships: Caduceus Clay/Fjord, Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett, Veth Brenatto/Yeza Brenatto, Yeza Brenatto/Nott
Comments: 70
Kudos: 673
Collections: Shadowgast Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so i wrote this before i knew #shadowgastweek2020 was happening and may 9th is literally themed soulmate au/mirror and I did both and I didn't save it for then........ somebody save me from myself.
> 
> ft. me forgetting what the hell actually happened in ep 57 and my irrational anger at Astrid apparently not having a last name.
> 
> ty to @sockablock on tumblr for the galaxy brain moment, and the rest of yall in the notes for the extra ideas. 
> 
> also shoutout to anybody that finds the RWRB ref, msg me @bubblesandburdens on tumblr if u get it and we can be friends!!

Bren is a boy and he is thinking about the names. They are scrawled on each of his wrists in handwriting that uncannily resembles his own.  _ Thelyss  _ and  _ Astrid _ .

One day he asks his mother what it means, the names. She grimaces and frowns and pulls up her shirtsleeves, displaying her own. On one side, his father. On the other, a name he does not recognize.

“I got them confused at first, you know,” she says. “Your papa and I did not always get along.”

“Did he tease you?”

“Worse, my dear.” His mother picks him up and buries her mouth in his hair, giving him a kiss. He squirms and laughs and pretends to pull away, but they both know he doesn’t want to. Not really. “He loved me.”

When Bren asks about the other name her face scrunches up, and says that not all loves are kind. She tells him to be careful, for there is no way of knowing who it will be on either wrist, your greatest love or your greatest hurt. “I am lucky,” she says, “for my greatest hurt died young and far away from here. Some are not so lucky, though some are luckier still.”

-

Bren is still a boy, though he doesn’t like to think so, and he is told that he will do great things. He meets Astrid and Eodwulf the day Master Ikithon steals them away and thinks  _ is it her is it her _ . Just in case, he wears bandages around his arms like many young people do, and tries not to think about how soft her hair must be, brushing against the cut of her jaw.

Later he will get to feel it for himself, rake callused fingers through the strands, which she will bat away before kissing him. He will fall into the familiar feel of her, relief washing over him as he realizes that  _ yes, it must be her _ until Eodwulf clears his throat from a doorway and they have to drift away from each other, two opposing waves on the beach.

-

Bren asks Astrid to marry him one day. They are sitting in a common room at the Soltryce Academy, doing work. And it spills out.

“We’re fourteen,” she says.

“I know.”

“We’re in school.”

“You’re on my wrist, Astrid.” He blurts out the words before he can stop himself, and when her pupil’s bloom wide, too large for her eyes, he nearly regrets it.

“When we’re older,” she says, and it feels like a promise.

-

After it all goes up in flames, Bren remembers the advice his mother gave him. Remembers what she said about mistaking one name for another. He wears bandages now for an entirely different reason, though sometimes the first is lost in smoke.

-

His new companions do not wear bandages, do not hide the names of those they love. He has seen their courage face-on, Beau and Jester grinning at each other over meals and then finding excuses to be alone. Fjord and Caduceus sharing their faiths, their understanding, and though it puzzles Caleb still, a love so bright it hurts to look at. He speaks to Nott about it sometimes, about what it’s like to find the person on your wrist, beginning to realize he was wrong. “At first I thought he was going to kill me,” she says, and Caleb thinks this is something of a trend.

“But how does it feel?”

“It feels like falling off a cliff. No, like  _ jumping _ off a cliff.” Nott plays with the buttons on her necklace. “It’s not an accident. I love him on purpose. But my stomach still gets butterflies, y’know?”

-

_ I am of the Empire, but I am no friend to the Empire.  _ Caleb does not realize how true the words are until he is saying them. He holds the beacon up high in his arms, uncaring that the names are bare to the world, to this foreign kingdom and foreign queen. For some reason, he is thankful to be rid of it, the self doubt and the wondering. It feels like what is left of Astrid, of the rest of them, is finally rotting away.

The Bright Queen sends them away with a handsome drow man—Caleb doesn’t notice this, really, he doesn’t—but when he speaks his name for the first time, he has to catch himself from tripping over the completely smooth stone floors. He is sure he can hear Jester whispering behind him, because  _ of course _ she’s read both names on his wrists and  _ of course  _ she doesn’t miss a thing, doesn’t forget a thing. But when he swerves around to look at her, to share in his astonishment, she just shrugs. “Don’t forget to jump,” she whispers.

-

Or perhaps the names are not wrong. Essek, as it turns out, is impossibly handsome when he is speaking ambitiously. That night in the Xorhouse, when Essek asked Caleb to  _ impress him _ , and Caleb panicked and responded with a cat claw, oh Gods a  _ cat claw _ of all things, there is the tiniest glint in his dark eyes that sets Caleb’s skin on fire. And when he reaches out over a table in the library to correct his form for the spell, Caleb is sure Essek can feel it, the terrible humming of his heart that aches to be closer to him.

-

There are more tutoring sessions. Essek, sitting with his back perfectly straight in a chair meant for reclining, showing Caleb spells he wrote as a youth. Small cantrips for fetching books from the bookshelves so he wouldn’t have to get up, the original version of the magic he now uses to float everywhere—everywhere but the library, Caleb insists. Everywhere but where they are alone. 

It is easy to smile with him. Easier than it has been in a long time. The night he comes over for dinner, bringing a bottle of wine so fine Caleb choked when he read the label, Caleb spends an hour alone in the library with his sleeve down, tracing and retracing Essek’s name on his wrist. It is a foolish dream, but he dreams anyway.

-

And then they are enemies again. It comes so suddenly that Caleb has to stop himself from flinching, from making any movement at all. It would be so easy to dive into the sea, so easy because now he knows there must be something seriously wrong with him if both names, both names, were those of hurt.

When the Nein speaks to him for the first time without masks, without trickery, Caleb cannot help himself from pressing a kiss into his brow. Because despite the knife in his back he understands, and maybe one day they can be whole together.

As he lifts his head up from the kiss his eyes catch on the inside of one exposed wrist, typically covered by heavy Xorhausian robes. He hasn’t read the name in print in a long time, but it is unmistakable.  _ Ermendrud _ . He cannot help the jerk of his head as he grabs Essek’s other wrist, pinning it to the wall. He cannot help the leap of his heart when he reads the second name printed on Essek’s skin:  _ Ikithon _ .

-

The war ends. There are more negotiations and more prisoner exchanges. There are charges and hours of questioning. And then there is one Essek Thelyss, officially released from his duties as Shadowhand (an honorable discharge, if an involuntary one) and looking lighter than he has all the time Caleb has known him. He doesn’t float anymore, not at all. Caleb doesn’t allow it.

“Why was it Ikithon?” Caleb asks him one night, as they lay in bed together. He counts the small white patches on Essek’s forearms, his neck. “I would think he would be my greatest hurt insead.”

“Perhaps.” Essek snaps his face forward to place a kiss on Caleb’s cheek. “But he hurt you in ways that made it impossible for you to truly see the extent of his damage. I could see it perfectly. And there is no greater enemy than those that hurt the ones you love.”

“It was interesting how he died,” Caleb says. “Very dramatic. Like a scene from one of those serial adventure stories Jester reads.” He grabs Essek’s wrist, the one labelled  _ Ermendrud _ , and kisses right in the center of the E. “I hate that this doesn’t say Widogast.”

“I know,” Essek says quietly. But when Caleb lifts it again for another kiss, Essek pulls him into one on his lips. He is warm and soft. He is home. For a breath, Essek breaks the kiss. “We could remedy that. I hear Jester is a talented tattoo artist.”

Caleb pulls away to smile against him. Essek Thelyss. His greatest love. “I’m not so sure how talented yet,” he says. 

Right before he drifts off to sleep, Essek still tucked into his sides and their legs in tangles, Caleb lets himself look outside the window at the moon, bright and brilliant in Xorhas’s sky.  _ Thank you, Mama _ , he thinks, and he can swear he hears a  _ you’re welcome _ .

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Essek pov part 2 question mark?


	2. The Essek POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Essek has always told he is going to be powerful, but he isn't sure he wants that power anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of this, because its #ShadowgastWeek2020 and I wanted to. Thank you to the ETFC and everyone who's been so kind over on part one. I've felt so welcomed as a first time cr fic writer! <3

Essek has always been told he is going to do great things. His father says so everyday.

“A name like that,” he says to Essek, as he’s herded to bed. “You’ll conquer our enemies in the Empire for good.” Essek glances at the name on his wrist,  _ Ermendrud _ . An enemy, surely, for it to be such a Zemnian name.

“I think I’ll be a teacher after,” Essek says. He can feel himself dragging his heels again, his childish habit of tripping over his feet becoming annoying rather than endearing as he ages. “I want to teach people magic.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” His father laughs. “You already spend too much time in the libraries.”

“I want to change the world, Papa,” Essek says, petulant, and his father puts a firm hand on his shoulder.

“It’s late. You can do that tomorrow.”

-

Essek is a prodigy, gifted beyond reason for a child so young. Essek is a testament to his Den. He is also very, very alone.

He does not play outside with the other children. Instead, he practices. He has been told his magic will turn the tides against the Empire, so Essek is determined to be worthy of such a cause. He learns spells from restricted books, about twisting bodies and breaking spirits, about changing the shape of reality as he knows it. Sometimes he writes a spell himself—his first allowing him to float instead of walk, so he can never be criticized for dragging his heels again.

As a teenager he looks in a mirror, floating two inches above the ground and wearing his father’s old cloaks, and thinks he looks like a hero.

-

“I don’t think I’d enjoy serving in the military,” his younger brother Verin says one day, as they walk to the Bright Queen’s domain. Essek rolls his eyes—Verin doesn’t have to think about much of anything. The names on his wrists are Krynn. He is the youngest soul in their Den, and more than a little spoiled. “Do you look forward to it?”

“I’d look forward to it more,” Essek grits out, “if it meant I could do more of my research.”

“With the beacon?” Verin shakes his head. “Victory against the Empire is more important.”

“Victory against the Empire is  _ temporary _ .” Essek nods at the guards outside of the Bright Queen’s halls and enters, adjusting his magic to float an inch higher. “Dunamis could change the world, if I were allowed to try.”

Meetings with the Bright Queen aren’t unheard of for members of high ranking Dens, but today she has a motive. There is a small uprising brewing in Bazzoxan and Essek is to be the one to put it out.

“I have no experience with…” Essek gapes. How can he research Dunamis if he’s stuck at battle? “This is not what I’ve practiced for.”

“You practiced magic, Thelyss. I’m sure you’ve a spell or two with militant capabilities.”

“Of course, but—” Instinctively, he looks at his brother. Kind just Verin. And the rest spills out: “My brother is much more talented at such things.”

Verin blinks. “Essek?”

“A gifted fighter, my brother. And a steady head. He’d be perfect.” Essek ignores the look of panic that crosses his brother’s features. He cannot know that Essek needs to be here, needs to research and study and  _ push _ . “My Queen, please. He is the better choice.”

His heart jumps when he realizes she is considering it, and when she nods and waves Essek away, turning her attention to Verin, he knows he has won.

  
  


-

There are whispers of a great mage rising through the ranks in the Empire, a member of the Cerberus Assembly. Essek begs for more access to the beacon, begs for somebody to hear him, to understand there is infinite knowledge available if they only allow him to look. But he is ignored; victory over the Empire is all that matters.

So when he finally gets his hands on a Beacon, when he worms his way into the Bright Queen’s good graces after years of being the Thelyss upstart, it is only right for him to steal it out from her under the guise of worship. It is only right for him to gaze into its center and wonder.

-

Verin returns from Bazzoxan after finding his greatest love and felling his greatest hurt. Suddenly, nobody is looking at Essek.

Essek watches his brother from the shadows of their home, watches as Verin is lauded for his leadership, his military prowess. He is given a title,  _ Taskhand _ , and the Umavi looks at him with light in her eyes. Something in Essek’s chest clenches.

It’s not fair, after all, that his prudish brother wins one fight and now the world looks to him like a winner. That he can walk around with his love on his arm and say, “oh it was fate, it was destiny”, and get everything he wants. His foolish, kindhearted brother, who has never known denial.

The mage he heard of before from the Cerberus Assembly has a name now, Ikithon. And it is the dagger of his brother’s success that pushes Essek to make contact. It is only after he has received a reply that Essek realizes this man’s name is on his wrist. And then Essek smiles.

-

In one of his letters to Ikithon, Essek mentions Ermendrud, wondering if it is possible they are acquainted. It’s a foolish shot in the dark, something Verin would do, but he is Shadowhand now and confidence is something he no longer has to pray for. Ikithon ignores it in his next letter. Essek doesn’t bring it up again.

-

If he weren’t so close to something big, something extraordinary in his research, Essek would lament not being able to spend more time with this Empire group of misfits. Sure, when the pretty redheaded one held up the Beacon to the Bright Queen that Essek was responsible for losing, his heart stopped. But they are ignorant like all from the Empire, and the Bright Queen will never know.

It is absurd how quickly they take him in, offering dinner invitations and warm conversation and the feeling of being with people wholly comfortable with each other. He reciprocates as expected, teleporting them where they need to go if asked, but he never once feels the urge to say  _ no _ .

When the redhead, a mage like him, asks to see his magic, asks to  _ learn _ , Essek nearly blurts out  _ yes _ . But then he remembers his goal, and bites his tongue.

Still, he is not difficult to convince. Especially because the wizard, Caleb, looks at the world through sharp eyes Essek recognizes from the mirror. And he would very much like to see if his hair is as soft as it looks.

-

Ikithon is easy to resent now. Their correspondence is tired, and Essek has long realized that he is not, in fact, a person he will ever come to like, or even tolerate. Sometimes, after spilling another secret, after sharing another spell, Essek catches sight of Verin and his kind wife and wishes he weren’t himself. Wishes that could be him.

The self-loathing has always been there, present under his skin like an angry itch. It is difficult to continue fabricating reasons for him to see Caleb, but he is the only thing that quells the sting.

-

Essek sits alone in his tower and fantasizes that the name on his wrist were not Ermendrud, but Widogast.

-

The thing about confessing is that it never feels good. It is Essek, getting dragged away from the party in Nicodranas and feeling the low hum of panic rise in his veins. It is the fear and the shock but most of all the disappointment on the faces of the Mighty Nein, people he wanted to call his friends, people he would have called his friends if not for being...himself.

But most of all, what breaks him is Nott saying,  _ you sound like all of us _ , and Caleb kissing his forehead like there’s some hope still left. Essek would be perfectly content, he realizes, for his story with the Mighty Nein to end here. Because he got to hold onto them at one point, even if he can’t anymore.

Essek is ready to never see them again when Caleb grabs his wrist, something inscrutable crossing his features.

-

Caleb tells Essek that there was a boy called Bren Ermendrud who was told he would do great things. That Bren was a little bit nervous going away to school, but he loved magic too much to doubt. Caleb tells Essek that Ermendrud doesn’t exist anymore, hasn’t for some time, but Widogast does. And though it’s sunny on the dock, seagulls cawing in the distance, Essek sees stars.

-

Later, the Bright Queen sends him away, but Essek has Den Nein to welcome him home.

-

On his first mission with the Nein, after a particularly gruesome fight in the forest, Essek lies with Caleb. “I think I loved you before you were on my wrist,” he says. “I think I loved you before I knew how to love at all.”

Caleb laughs. “I’m honored,” he says, and they fall asleep together underneath a starry sky.

  
  



End file.
